


Heritage Society Gala

by popculturehoe



Series: Magnetic [5]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Lust, Mutual Pining, Secret Crush, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popculturehoe/pseuds/popculturehoe
Summary: He was speaking with Dan Roberts, one of the members of the Monument Preservation Committee, when he saw her standing at the bar and he swore his jaw dropped to the floor like something out of a Looney Tunes cartoon. He tuned out what the man was saying, something about the Jefferson Memorial, completely distracted by her. She was wearing a long, navy blue gown that was a little bit form fitting and accentuated what little curves she had, but not in a way that was inappropriate for the event. Her hair was up in some kind of low bun that sat at the nape of her neck, and he also noticed she wasn't wearing her glasses. He realized it was the first time he had seen her without them.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Original Female Character
Series: Magnetic [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752097
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Heritage Society Gala

**Author's Note:**

> Not much of a plot. Just Josh being a horny bastard. This takes place somewhere between the first and second stories in the series.

The East Room was full of people and buzzing with conversation. This was a huge event; the annual Heritage Society Gala was a very important night in the DC area. The guest list was full of Washington's biggest and most prominent names - politicians, historians, philanthropists, journalists, and the like. Paul had brought Sara along with him; he had been invited because he was a senior member of the Press Corps. 

President Bartlet was in the front of the room, making some opening remarks before the fun part of the evening started, although to Jed Bartlet, a lifelong student and lover of history of any kind, the entire night was fun. 

"We must remember," he said, finishing his speech, "History is something that is very important, because without history, we would not be able to learn from our mistakes." There was a loud but polite applause as he walked back to his table near the front of the room. 

Sara looked around, taking a sip of her glass of complimentary champagne. She felt like a fish out of water; she had never been to an event as fancy as this, and especially not one with as many prominent people as the ones she was surrounded by. Paul had introduced her to several people on their way to their assigned table and she thought she had made a complete fool of herself.

The staff came out and served the first course, a capane with sun dried tomato and some kind of runny cheese. After she was done eating she made her way over to the open bar to get a real drink. She wasn't planning on getting hammered at a White House event, so she decided on a glass of pinot grigio. She waved the bartender over and gave him her order, and as she was waiting for her drink she turned around and surveyed the room. As she leaned against the oak bartop, she saw many people she had seen on the news, but never in person - John Brightman, the head of the National Endowment for the Humanities, Julia Koffman, one of the boardmembers of the National Archives, and her husband, the CNN broadcaster Robert Koffman, and Isabel Kaminski, the lead historian at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. 

Then she saw him. He was talking to a bald man with thin-rimmed glasses, looking bored, meanwhile the man he was speaking to was making all sorts of animated gestures and talking emphatically about something. Involuntarily, her tongue darted out of her mouth and she licked her lips. He looked even more handsome than usual, verging on sexy, she thought, which she didn't even know was possible until that moment. Dressed in a classic tuxedo, she thought he looked like James Bond, but his hair still looked like he hadn't bothered to brush it. What she wouldn't give to have him sweep her off her feet and let him have his way with her, but there was no way she could let him know that. They were barely friends, if that. She would just have to settle for their friendly conversations and pining for him from afar. 

He was speaking with Dan Roberts, one of the members of the Monument Preservation Committee, when he saw her standing at the bar and he swore his jaw dropped to the floor like something out of a Looney Tunes cartoon. He tuned out what the man was saying, something about the Jefferson Memorial, completely distracted by her. She was wearing a long, navy blue gown that was a little bit form fitting and accentuated what little curves she had, but not in a way that was inappropriate for the event. Her hair was up in some kind of low bun that sat at the nape of her neck, and he also noticed she wasn't wearing her glasses. He realized it was the first time he had seen her without them. It was also the smallest amount of clothing he had ever seen her in, and his imagination started running wild, only slightly shocked to find himself at half-mast as he watched her wait for her drink. He excused himself from talking to Dan Roberts, not caring in the slightest how rude he was being, and wiping the sweat off his brow he made his way over to the bar. He had to collect himself and turn on the charm, but as he sauntered up to her, he found himself getting very nervous.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he said, and she turned around to face him. She looked at him in slight shock and then smiled. She was breathtaking. 

"Oh, hi," she said. "Paul got invited so he let me come along. He said he felt bad because I never go out and only focus on my work. I have no idea why he thought I would enjoy this though, I _definitely_ don't belong here." 

He moved to lean against the bar next to her. "These things are so stupid, just an excuse for people to dress up in expensive clothes and show face." She laughed, and the bartender brought her glass of wine over. Josh ordered a whiskey neat. He turned back towards her and raked his eyes down her body, not even bothering to be inconspicuous. He could barely look her in the eye, though, and his Adam's apple was bobbing up and down. "But Paul should bring you to these things more often, you look... great." The words fell out of his mouth before he could even think, and he mentally smacked himself. 

She blushed deeply and looked down at the floor. "Well thank you," she said. "You clean up pretty good yourself." He laughed awkwardly and smiled. The bartender brought over Josh's drink. 

"It was really nice talking to you, Sara," he told her. "I'm glad I got to see you, but duty calls. Time to go talk to the head of the Social Studies Teachers Association." He rolled his eyes. 

"Have fun," she said facetiously. She waved to him as he walked away from the bar. 

Throughout the break between the first and second courses, Paul dragged Sara around with him to introduce her to more people. She was secretly hoping to run into Josh again, but had no luck.

As hard as he tried, Josh couldn't help watching her from a distance. He was busy talking to people, too, but every time he caught a quick glimpse of her smiling and laughing as she talked to various people, he got distracted. Not that he cared. 

After the second course, a band came out and began to play big band songs. Many people got up and began to dance along to the music - the President and First Lady, the Vice President and his wife, even Toby and CJ danced together for a couple songs. Sara chuckled to herself as she watched them; at first glance they were an odd couple, but somehow at the same time it worked and looked natural. She was so busy watching all of the other people dancing that she hadn't even noticed Josh walking over to her table. 

"Are you up for a dance?" she looked up to see him standing in front of her. 

"I... I don't know," she told him. "I'm not much of a dancer." 

"I'm not either," he admitted. "C'mon, it'll be fun." He held out his hand. 

She thought for a moment. She would probably embarrass herself with her complete inability to keep any kind of rhythm, but when was the next time she would be able to be that close to him? Never, she figured, so it was probably worth the risk of making a total fool of herself in front of him. She stood up. "Ah, what the hell." She took his hand and as she did she felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. 

The band began to play Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade" as they walked out onto the floor. Josh kept his left hand in hers and placed his right gently on her waist as she tentatively put her hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met as they began to try to move with the music, and Sara blushed, looking down at her feet again. His mouth quirked upwards into a smirk. He had the cool, almost cocky facade, but he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but whether it was from nerves or lust, he didn't know. He just relished the feeling of being that close to her and being able to touch her. 

"You know what," he said after several moments, leaning down and getting close to her ear. He could smell her perfume and it made him heady. "I think you're a liar." 

"Why's that?" she looked up at him. 

"You said you weren't much of a dancer, but the whole time we've been out here you haven't stepped on my feet once." 

"Would you like me to step on your feet?" she chucked and smiled, her eyes sparkling. _God, she's so beautiful, he thought._

"You're a piece of work," he laughed. 

"I could say the same about you." He smiled, his dimples showing. "...and that's why we're friends." 

_Yeah, but friends usually think about taking their friends home with them and peeling their dress off their body piece by piece and then fucking their brains out, Josh thought._

Sara studied his face as they danced. He looked pensive, like he was lost in thought. She boldly moved the tiniest bit closer to him, wanting to get more contact, but not wanting to do anything inappropriate. He moved his hand that was on her waist slowly down towards her hip and began absently rubbing small circles onto it, but then quickly stopped himself. He couldn't do that here, not now, even if no one could see it. She caught his eye again and she saw a look that she'd never seen before flash in his eyes - desire. Her breath caught in her throat and she tried to swallow but found that she couldn't. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She didn't even know what to say, her head was spinning.

"I-I need to step outside," she told him quickly. The look in his eye was quickly replaced with one of concern. "I need some air." She broke out of his embrace and went over to her table to collect her things. Making her way out of the East Room as quickly as she could - it was impossible for her to run in heels - she went into the Cross Hall and leaned up against the wall. Her heart was pounding and she found she couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't wrap her head around what had just happened. Josh had looked like he wanted to ravish her right there on the floor of the East Room. She wanted him just as badly, but she knew she couldn't do anything about it. They were just friends, if not good acquintances at the very least. They always stopped to talk to one another if they ran into each other in the West Wing, had friendly conversations over lunch in the mess sometimes, watched baseball games in his office on occassion, but that was it. There had never been an indication from Josh, not even an inkling, that he was attracted to her. Why there, in the middle of the East Room? Why that moment?

"Sara, there you are." It was Paul. "I saw you grab your purse and walk out, is everything alright?" He was always looking out for her. 

"Yeah, everything's fine, thanks Paul." She tried to sound nonchalant. 

"Are you sure everything's alright?" he asked again. "You look flushed." 

"I'm just a bit tired," she lied through her teeth. "I think I'm gonna head home." 

"Okay," he said. "Get home safe." 

"Thanks, Paul." She smiled. 

He couldn't follow her, he knew he couldn't. He had too many obligations that night, and it was more than likely that people would start talking if he did. Part of him wanted to just say "fuck it", run after her, and kiss her with everything he had, but he knew he couldn't do that either. What little friendship they had would be destroyed if he did anything like that, given his track record with women. He wanted to stay friendly with her, but God, after that night he wanted more. He wanted to be with her, but he knew he couldn't tell her that, or anyone for that matter. For the rest of the night he looked around for her every so often, but to his disappointment he couldn't find her. Maybe he had already fucked it up, he thought, but when he saw her walk through the bullpen on Monday morning, it was like the night had never happened. She gave him a shy smile, as usual, and asked him if he had seen the previous night's Mets game. They talked for several minutes about Mike Piazza and John Franco. He didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed. 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this definitely wasn't my best work, but this idea has been bouncing around in my head for quite some time and I felt the need to write it out. I wrote it pretty fast, so forgive me if there are any errors. I hope you all enjoyed it!


End file.
